by Matt Rogers
Chapter 24: Black and Blue in Tombstone
The Journey (Lawlessness)
They had been traveling for hours and were beginning to wonder if it was the proper direction.
“Are you sure this is the right way?”
Hesitation was not the answer Brutus wanted.
“You don’t know, do you?”
Savage turned and looked his friend in the eyes as he spoke.
“Nope.”
Brutus looked around and saw nothing to orient upon. They’d been using the sun as their guidepost but it was only good for general direction, not the one they needed, not specific location.
“Deadaim!”
“Yes, Brutus?” the archer in the rear yelled back.
“Do you know if we’re going in the right direction?”
“Nope!”
Brutus turned again to face his Sergeant. It was becoming hot and the camels were not exactly thoroughbreds.
“We could die out here, you know?”
“Yep.”
Brutus again craned his neck to view the entire expanse. It was pointless.
“Everything looks the same.”
“Yep.”
In all directions the scenery never changed. Even a compass was useless when whichever way the arrow pointed revealed the same picture.
“There’s nothing but sand.”
“Yep.”
Brutus didn’t like sand. Actually, he didn’t like that particular sand. If the sand ran into the ocean he was all for it. It was the sand which didn’t, the sand which led nowhere, the sand which promised a slow and agonizing death he wasn’t fond of.
“And why are we going this way?”
“Because the Midglings said so.”
Brutus turned his head and viewed the two sitting atop their camel with childish, wide-eyed glee.
“I can’t believe we’re riding a camel!”
“Me neither!”
They had been at it for hours. Everything was new, exciting and a wonder to behold.
“Ooh! Look at that!”
“Wow!”
Even everyday things.
“Mr. Brutus?”
For some reason they’d decided he was the answer to their questions.
“Yes, Midglings?”
“What is that?”
“That’s a lizard.”
“Ooh!”
They’d been at it a while so he waited patiently for what he knew would come next.
“Mr. Brutus?”
“Yes, Midglings?”
“What’s a lizard?”
They were innocent as newborns. Nothing was off-limits to their amazed imaginations. The barbarian chose to play with them.
“It’s a baby dragon.”
Savage smiled as he watched the two little creatures stare, with mouths wide open, at the small reptile which did in fact resemble the most dangerous creature in the realms. He allowed Brutus to play games with them because it kept the large barbarian occupied. Savage himself was also a bit worried because he, too, did not like the idea of dying in a desert following the directions of Midglings who couldn’t discern the difference between a harmless insect-eater and the mightiest of beasts. He decided to ask again.
“Midglings?”
“Yes, Sergeant Savage?” they both responded with enthusiastic yells.
“Are we still headed in the right direction?”
He waited as they sat there, only the sound of wind and grunting camels breaking the silence.
“Yes, Sergeant Savage, this is the right way” Stu replied.
Neither Savage, Brutus nor Deadaim could understand how in the world the little beings could possibly tell direction but since they had no compass and the two dumplings were so positive with their answers they decided they must’ve acquired directional abilities from underground living.
Savage looked again to the front and saw the same thing he’d seen before; sand. He debated for a second whether he’d made the correct decision, decided he really had no choice in the matter, relaxed his shoulders, settled back on the hump and resigned himself to Fate’s desires. His reasoning was simple.
“Okay, I guess we might as well take the Midglings where they want to go. They say they’re able to navigate their way to the Lazy River and since we definitely don’t want to turn around and deal with those Elvin in a forest I suggest we go along with them.”
Both Brutus and Deadaim learned long before to trust in their Sergeant’s instincts. It didn’t mean they were void of questions, though.
“What if they’re wrong?”
“Yeah, what if they lead us in the wrong direction?”
Savage looked at his friends and smiled.
“Then we’re in more trouble than I thought.”
The reason for their worries was the past. They’d been to Lawlessness before.
“Welcome to The Tombstone.”
They’d done what many of their kind had tried; become respectable businessmen.
“What’ll it be?”
“Whiskey.”
“Coming right up.”
The odd part of becoming legitimate to mercenaries was where they had to go in order to implement their ideas.
“I think we should open a saloon.”
“A saloon?”
“Yep.”
“But we’re wanted by the authorities in every town around here?”
“Yep, that’s why we’re going where the authorities are not.”
They entered Lawlessness in searched of a town which had just the right amount of braggadocio to suit their desires.
“Death’s Valley?”
“Yep.”
“Why?”
The reasoning was simple.
“Because the men we want are the ones who think they’re the best, the ones who think they’ve got what it takes to take it from others, the ones who would like to challenge a town bragging it’s so tough Death claimed it herself .”
So they bought a run-down hotel, redesigned the interior, decided on a name and opened for business.
“How many cards?”
“I’ll take three.”
Gambling and liquor were their bread and butter, they sold no food so it had to be. Brutus went behind the bar, Savage roamed the floor and Deadaim sat in the balcony, bow within reach reminding all to keep their weapons at bay. It was an overnight sensation.
“Where are we playing cards tonight?”
“The Tombstone. I like to relax when gambling.”
Its reputation as the place to go for an evening of tranquil entertainment quickly grew.
“Oops, sorry about spilling my drink all over you.”
“Hey, no problem, everyone spills drinks once in a while.”
The change in personality for the criminal element which entered the establishment was due to three rather intimidating figures.
“That’s my seat!”
“No it isn’t!”
“Is there a problem, gentlemen?”
Tough guys all had one thing in common; they thought they were tougher than all others. Except when the others were three legendary mercenaries with the reputation of never being bested in combat.
“You know what? I see another chair over there so I’ll just….”
“No, no, no, take this one. I insist.”
With the need for defensive postures removed the real reason for those who entered The Tombstone flourished.
“What’ll it be?”
“A bottle of your finest bourbon. I’m feeling lucky tonight.”
The saloon was exceedingly popular because the owners took their cut early, before the games began.
“It’s one gold piece to play. No cheating or fighting. If you attempt either you’ll pay the piper.”
“Who’s the piper?”
Thunk!
“Holy…!”
“Deadaim’s the piper.”
With cheating eliminated competition grew tighter, games lasted longer and libation flow
ed freely.
“That’ll be six gold pieces.”
“Man, how long have I been here?”
“Six hours. And now it’s time to go home.”
They were amazingly successful and would’ve probably kept at it if not for one slight detail which walked through the doors one evening.
“One gold piece to play.”
The man placed the payment in Savage’s hand and sat down.
“Deadaim.”
“Yes, Sergeant?”
“Keep an eye on that man at table nine, the one in black with his back to the wall, I’ve got a bad feeling about him.”
The night grew long as the games grew tighter and things were looking as though Savage was wrong when Deadaim spotted the problem. It wasn’t at the table where the man sat, it was at the table next to him, the table where the other man sat; the man who was sitting in a chair losing money. A chair which happened to give him a perfect view of the cards in three players’ hands one table over. Three players who were losing heavily.
“Sergeant.”
“Yes, Deadaim?”
“Watch the man in blue. He’s signaling the other players’ cards to the man in black.”
Sure enough, they were cheating. Savage had to give them credit, though, for it was a rather difficult con to pull off. They had to find the right chairs at the right time and keep everything under the table. Literally, under the table. While the man in blue held his cards in one hand he gave finger motions to the man in black with the other, the one resting on his lap, the one nobody at his table could spot.
“All right, I’ve got an idea.”
Savage bid his time while the others bid their hands. When the pot grew large but the last cards un-dealt he made his move.
“Sir?”
“Yes?”
“There’s been a discrepancy with your gold piece. You’ll need to come with me.”
“But I’m in the middle of my hand.”
“I’m sure these gentlemen won’t mind. Do you gentlemen?”
“Nope.”
“Fine with me.”
“Could care less, Mr. Savage.”
The man in blue rose and Deadaim watched as the man in black noticed, did a double take at his cards and then looked at the pot one more time. He swore he could see beads of sweat form on the man’s brow.
“So, how’s it look now?”
“It looks like the man in black is having a heart attack. Where’s the man in blue?”
“I trussed him up and tied him to the hitching post.”
The two watched as the table in back became a contest of wills. The other three had been losing for so long they were at the point where large bets were the only way to get their money back. They were also somewhat suspicious of the man in black but since their backs were turned they never saw the man in blue’s signals. The pot in the middle of the table was enormous.
“Now we’ll see if our suspicions are correct.”’
Their suspicions were that cheaters, in reality, were horrible card-players. Cards weren’t really much more than odds. One pair was easier to get than two. Two pair was easier than three-of-a-kind and so on. The game essentially came down to math; weigh the possibilities of your hand versus the likelihood another’s was higher. Savage believed cheaters were intellectually inferior counters. Deadaim felt the same. So they watched from the balcony as the man in black stayed in the game because to do otherwise was to give back almost everything he’d won. It appeared the game was about to called for the bets had gone around the table and were at the last man, a man with only a few gold coins in front of him, a man who looked at his cards one more time, made a decision, reached into his pocket and pulled out one of the largest nuggets anyone could ever recall seeing.
“I raise.”
And every other game in the house halted.
“Wow! Look at that rock!”
“It must weigh a pound.”
As with all contests, the higher the stakes the larger the crowd. Everyone gathered around the table to see which player would walk away with a hunk of ore so big it could do severe damage if thrown. The bets would go around the table again. Match the small boulder or quit. The players asked for a confirmation on the value of the nugget and Brutus quickly did the calculation.
“Twenty-five gold pieces.”
Since Brutus was a barbarian, and an enormous one at that, nobody questioned his computation abilities.
“I’m in.”
“I’m in.”
And so it came down to the man in black, the man with ten gold pieces in front of him, the man who was looking around in desperation for his friend in blue.
“Um, I seem to be a little short.”
Poker was, at times, a game of appearance. Dress well and others would likely believe one had wealth. Dress like a pauper and receive a beggar’s reception. The man in black was dressed appropriately but not necessarily over the top. He might have wealth or he might not. Either way the ones at the table weren’t going to help him. All they had to do was wait him out. If he couldn’t come up with the money to match the bet then he was done. It was his call. The man next to him was the one who’d raised. If the man in black called, the game was set and the cards would be shown. It all came down to money and it appeared he would get no help from the audience. As he searched for his partner to come to his aid and lend him a few gold coins something caught the attention of another at his table.
“That jade locket around your neck would cover the bet.”
The man in black looked down and, sure enough, there it was; the price of admission to a game of chance, a game unrigged, a game he knew not whether he could win.
“I’m in.”
The pot was set, the cards turned over and the victor elated.
“Drinks are on me!”
Everyone cheered but one. Even the other losers at the table were happy because the winner was a regular and they would one day get their money back. The man in black, though, was anything but pleased. He stood and made his way to the door. As he stepped outside one of his questions was answered.
“Yep, that’s your partner in crime there. I guess he got all tied up and couldn’t help you with that last hand.”
The man in black turned with venom in his eyes. Savage quickly sized him up and came to the conclusion the man was a stone-cold killer. One of those men who would slit a stranger’s throat if it served even the smallest of purposes.
“You did this?” he rasped.
“Yep. I told you not to cheat.”
He could see the fury, the rage and something else, something darker than the other emotions in the man’s eyes; malice.
“You will pay for this.”
Savage was not one for threats.
“What did you say?”
The man stood back because something about the one he faced, the mercenary with a reputation of violence tempered with sympathy, suddenly changed. Savage became, in an instant, the epitome of his name. He loomed over the man in black and the other knew he could not win. The timing wasn’t right, the setting not to his liking but he was not a coward either. It appeared blood was to be spilled and he prepared himself for the challenge. He was saved by his partner who had finally unbound his ropes.
“No! Cutter, no!” he said as leapt between them and began ushering the man in black away.
The one named Cutter said nothing, only stared at Savage as if to burn his image in his memory. Savage said nothing either for he was doing the same. Both men realized an absolute truth that night in front of The Tombstone in Death’s Valley; they had an enemy for life and one day a reckoning would come.
Savage went back inside to survey his operation when the detail which had walked through his doors spoke. It was not the man in black who had caused them to abandon their quest for legitimate employment but the one in brown leather, the one who’d been watching, the one with Queen Ann Archy’s symbol on his breast.
“Are you this establishment’s owner?�
�
Savage was intrigued because it was obvious by the man’s clothing he was some kind of soldier.
“I’m one of them, yes.”
“I’m afraid you’ll need to shut down.”
Savage was even more intrigued.
“Why?”
“Because you are breaking the Queen Overarchyng Law; there will be no law. By insisting on no cheating you are in direct conflict with her proclamation.”
While Savage was intrigued he wasn’t necessarily in agreement.
“It’s not a law, it’s a business policy.”
“I am sorry but the distinction does not work. You and your partners have broken the Queen’s decree and are banished from the Land of Lawlessness.”
“You’re banishing us?”
“Yes.”
Savage was then fully intrigued.
“You and what army?”
The man spoke honestly when he answered.
“Me and the Queen’s army.”
And so Savage, Brutus and Deadaim become the first and only people to have broken a law in a land without laws and were subsequently banished from a place where convicts fled to avoid prosecution.
“What happens if we’re caught?”
“I suppose what the man said would happen.”
“I don’t like the implications of that, Sergeant.”
“I don’t either, Brutus.”
The two were riding side by side as the Midglings expressed delight at every passing moment.
“Ooh, look at that!”
“What is it?”
“I think they call it a sand dune.”
“Ooh!”
They were making progress for the camels were healthy and accustomed to Troll transportation so Humans and Midglings were something of a delight for the desert horses. Unfortunately, they had no way to tell if their progress was taking them to safety or trouble.
“Did he really say we’d be burned at the stake?”
“No he said we’d be turned into steaks. He said we’d be chopped up and fed to the Orcs.”
Brutus thought on the description for a moment.
“Okay, I don’t like that either.”
“Me neither.”
So the two mercenaries, once again, asked the Midglings if they were positive in their direction of travel. Stu glanced at Wort who shrugged his shoulders , nodded his head and went back to gawking at the mundane features surrounding them on every side. Stu, on the other hand, became composed, closed his eyes and sat still. He remained that way for a time, allowing for silence only interrupted by wind and camel grunting, then looked up after a few seconds and responded.
“Yes, Sergeant Savage, we’re headed in the right direction.”
Savage cold no longer contain his curiosity.
“How do you know?”
And the Midgling’s answer caused him to question whether little people were actually insane people trapped in tiny bodies.
“The camels told me so.”